


i could not foresee this thing happening to you

by radneto



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, It Chapter Two (2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, I have no idea what I wrote, Love Confessions, M/M, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 15:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21000263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radneto/pseuds/radneto
Summary: "His heart quickened its pace. Everyone else seemed to fade away and he was in the shoes of his younger self. All his attention was on Eddie. Eddie, who wore two fanny packs filled to the brim with first aid kits and medicine he didn’t need. Eddie, who stood up to his terrible mother, yelling something about gazebos. Eddie, who complained about sitting in the grass because of all the terrible diseases he could catch from the bugs that could crawl all over them. Eddie, who sat next to Richie in the dirt anyway because he called him a pussy. Eddie, who made his chest feel funny things whenever he laughed at his stupid jokes. Eddie, who he loved so much that it physically hurt him."(Also Known As: I listened to Paint It Black by the Rolling Stones and got Big Reddie Feels TM)





	i could not foresee this thing happening to you

**Author's Note:**

> hi, yes, i spent six hours writing this and it's now almost six a.m. so sorry if it sucks but i haven't slept AT ALL lmao

He didn’t really get what was happening. It was hard to process it. One moment he was throwing rocks at Pennywise, mocking It, distracting It. Then suddenly everything just kind of... stopped. Richie could vaguely sense himself kind of floating. Was he floating? He didn’t know anymore. He just felt... numb. Everything was white around him. Just blinding white light. Through the brightness, he could see vague flashes, visions. He was pretty sure they were bad. He felt like they were bad. But he couldn’t quite focus on them.

_ Focus, Trashmouth _ , he thought to himself as the images became clearer and clearer. He vaguely catch glimpses of blurry, impressionistic scenes. There were blobs of colors and figures meshed together and he felt like he was trying to look around without his glasses on, everything was so blurry. And then the images sharpened and he could make out what, or rather  _ who _ the figures were. He saw his friends: Bill, Stanley, Ben, Mike, Beverly. They were playing in the grass, childish laughter echoing eerily in his ears that were ringing dully. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding steadily in his chest. His gaze turned to him and...  _ Eddie _ .

His heart quickened its pace. Everyone else seemed to fade away and he was in the shoes of his younger self. All his attention was on Eddie. Eddie, who wore two fanny packs filled to the brim with first aid kits and medicine he didn’t need. Eddie, who stood up to his terrible mother, yelling something about gazebos. Eddie, who complained about sitting in the grass because of all the terrible diseases he could catch from the bugs that could crawl all over them. Eddie, who sat next to Richie in the dirt anyway because he called him a pussy. Eddie, who made his chest feel funny things whenever he laughed at his stupid jokes. Eddie, who he loved so much that it physically hurt him.

_ Eds _ , he tried to say, but his voice echoed back at him and suddenly everything was fading. He looked around, panicking as the darkness was closing in on him.  _ Eddie? _ He reached out to the boy in front of him, but Eddie’s childish face morphed and shifted into a clown’s and he flinched, spooked by the sudden change. The last thing he heard before waking up was Eddie’s voice and the sinister cackle of a clown.

Richie gasped as his eyes flew open and he panted heavily. He was on the cold ground. His body was sore. Did he fall? He didn’t remember falling. He was barely given a chance to figure out what the hell happened when Eddie was suddenly in front of him.  _ Eddie _ .

He looked exhilarated. He was grinning. Richie loved his grin. Eddie helped him sit up and Richie took his hand dazedly. Eddie was saying something to him. He could see his mouth running at a hundred miles per hour.

_ He always talked so fucking fast _ , he thought fondly.

Richie wanted to kiss him. He couldn’t think of a reason  _ not _ to kiss him. God, he was so in love.

“I did it!” Eddie said excitedly. “I think I killed it for re-”

He never got to finish his sentence. He felt a warm liquid splash onto his face, onto his glasses. Eddie’s smile vanished and a pained look spread upon his face. He coughed up blood.

“Richie,” he said weakly.

His heart dropped into his stomach.

_ No. No, no, no, this was not happening _ . Richie’s eyes drifted from Eddie’s pained expression to the spike sticking through his chest.  _ Please, God, no. _

He watched in horror as he was thrown carelessly away. “ _ Eddie! _ ” he screamed, scrambling to his feet to run after him. His blood pounded in his ears.  _ Thump, thump, thump _ . He vaguely registered the others following him into the cavern, barely heard Pennywise laughing and chasing them.

Richie didn’t believe in God, but he prayed to whoever was up there that they didn’t take Eddie away from him. 

He stayed by his side the entire time. While the others tried to figure out how to defeat Pennywise, Richie stayed with Eddie, holding his hand, keeping pressure on his wound. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said softly. “You’re not gonna fucking die in here, okay? We’re gonna get you out. It’s gonna be fine.” Eddie got this sad look in his eyes when he said that and he hated it. It’s like he’s already given up. Well, Richie hasn’t. He wasn’t going to give up on him.

Eddie squeezed his hand and gave him a weak smile. “Richie... Richie, I gotta tell you something.”

His heart was pounding. He could feel it crawling up his throat. He squeezed his hand back. “I’m here, Eds. I’m here,” he choked out.

“I...” he turned his head a little to face him. “I fucked your mom.”

Eddie wheezed with painful laughter and Richie’s heart broke. Any other time he would’ve enjoyed such a tasteless joke. Any other time he would’ve fondly returned Eddie’s laugh, would’ve bumped shoulders with him to express his amusement. But right now, he was uncharacteristically quiet. Eddie’s laughter faded and he turned to look at their friends who had surrounded Pennywise now, shouting at It, mocking It. He felt a surge of anger flare in his chest, briefly consuming his grief. He shouted at the clown while still clutching Eddie’s hands tightly. 

Eventually, he got up, stepped away to rip of Its fucking arm brutally. A part of him, somewhere in the back of his head told him to go back to Eddie. Don’t leave him. But he needed to give this clown a piece of his mind. They crowded around It and together they crushed Its heart in their hands. All of them. All of them except Eddie.

With Pennywise defeated, Richie could run back to Eddie’s side, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He was grinning. “Eddie! We did it!” he held his cold hands that were still folded over his chest. He received no response. “Eddie?” He carefully held his cheek, looking into his sightless eyes. He couldn’t hear anything anymore. He was pretty sure his mouth was moving. He was pretty sure he was saying Eddie’s name. Beverly was talking. What was she saying?

“He’s dead, honey,” she sobbed.

No. No, that wasn’t right. Eddie was right here. Eddie was still there, he was okay. He was a little hurt, but he was going to be okay.

Hands grabbed him behind, trying to pull him away from Eddie. “No,” he refused, trying to shrug them off, still clinging to him. “No, we can’t leave him. We can still save him!” He hugged him tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Ben and Bill grabbed his arms, pulling, telling him they had to leave as the building started to collapse around them. He can’t go. Please don’t make him go. He sobbed and cupped Eddie’s cheeks, kissing him for the first and final time before he was pulled away completely. Richie didn’t let them drag him out without a fight, and fight he did. He fought against them the whole way out, crying Eddie’s name until his voice was hoarse and until there was nothing left of the house on Neibolt Street. 

He was pretty sure he was shaking. He couldn’t really feel much of anything if he were honest. He was numb. He broke down in the quarry. He couldn’t bring himself to wash Eddie’s blood off his glasses and seeing it only made him feel worse. He cried. He cried harder when his friends embraced him. Eventually he couldn’t handle all these emotions. He made a joke, gave a weak laugh, lost his glasses. God, he was a mess. 

The next couple of days were a blur. He didn’t remember how he made it back to the townhouse, or when he showered and changed his clothes. He vaguely recalled getting into bed and just laying there on his side, in the dark, staring at nothing. He was like that for three days. His friends would come knocking on his door, begging him to come down and eat something, to  _ talk _ to them. He could never bring himself to do it. He laid in his bed. Only ever getting up to use the bathroom and, occasionally, to cry.

Eventually, Richie took a good, long look at himself in the mirror. There were obvious bags under his eyes. His hair was greasy and disgusting. His breath stank. His beard was getting scruffier and longer. He looked like shit. He scowled at his reflection. What the fuck was he doing? Why was he just sulking around all depressed and disgusting? He could do better than this.

_ Eddie _ would want him to do better than this.

The thought stung, but it gave him a new determination. He showered, shaved, brushed his teeth. He even ate breakfast for once. He felt himself getting better.

It didn’t feel as good as he thought it was supposed to.

After eating, he stepped outside. He walked through the town, hoping that he didn’t run into any of the other Losers. He needed to be alone. Richie pulled his hoodie closer around himself. Technically, it wasn’t even his hoodie. It was Eddie’s. He just wanted a piece of him to hold onto. It still smelled like him.

Richie could see his reflection in the shop windows as he passed by. He was starting to look healthier. He didn’t deserve to be healthier while Eddie was rotting at the bottom of the Well House. Richie shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. He knew what Bev would say.  _ It isn’t your fault, Richie. Please don’t blame yourself _ .

Okay, but it  _ was _ his fault. He let himself get caught in the deadlights. It was  _ his _ recklessness that got Eddie killed.

Some kids rode past him on their bikes, the ringing of their bells a familiar echo in his head. His chest felt tight. He held back the tears that made his eyes sting.

_ Stop fucking crying, Rich _ , he berated himself.  _ Eddie is fucking dead. There’s nothing you can do about it _ .

He looked up, realizing that he had been walking without paying attention to his surroundings. He somehow wandered to the Kissing Bridge. Fuck, of all places, why here? He paused, eyes wandering to a carving in the fence. His fingers twitched as he remembered coming here nearly thirty years ago with a knife he snatched from the garage. He felt around his pants and felt the vague outline of a pocket knife. He didn’t remember putting one there. Richie looked at the carving again, swallowed, then pulled out the knife. He crouched down, feeling the tears forming again as he carefully traced the “R.”

_ Richie looked around anxiously. He didn’t know why he was doing this. This was stupid and  _ incredibly _ risky. If he got caught, he could get killed. His hands shook as he held the borrowed knife. He had to do it. He didn’t know how else to deal with his... his  _ feelings _ . He carved the first letter into the side of the fence. _

_ “This is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid,” he muttered under his breath as he finished carving into the wood. He stared at it as soon as he made the final cut. He blew away the dust. Seeing the letters out in front of him, plain as day, made his heart skip a beat. Oh god, what the fuck did he just  _ do _ ? _

_ “Hey, Richie!” _

_ He turned so quickly that he dropped the knife. Oh shit, oh fuck. Eddie was approaching quickly, pulling his bike along with him. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- _

_ “What the hell are you doing over here?” Eddie asked him, frowning as he came to a stop. _

_ Richie forgot how to breathe for a moment, opening and closing his mouth like a confused goldfish. “Uh,” he started, blinking dumbly behind his glasses. “N-nothing.” _

_ It was obvious Eddie didn’t believe him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Right. Whose name are you carving into the bridge? I didn’t think you were capable of having an  _ actual _ crush that wasn’t a joke about my mom.” _

_ Richie quickly recovered. “What a coincidence, Eds! ‘Sonia Kaspbrak’ is exactly what I wrote!” _

_ “I bet you think you’re so fucking funny, huh?” _

_ “Why, Eddie-bear! That’s no way to be talking to your future father-in-law!” _

_ Eddie gave him an offended look. “Okay, first of all: that’s disgusting. Secondly: what makes you think that my mom would  _ want _ to marry you?” _

_ “For my dashing good looks, of course,” Richie gave him a cheesy grin and cupped both his cheeks. _

_ “You’re an asshole.” _

He finished re-carving the “E” on the fence, brushing away the dust with his sleeve. Richie stared at it as old feelings came flooding back to him. He gave a watery smile, a few stray tears falling down his cheek.

“I miss you, Eds,” he whispered.

“Say that to my face, dipshit.”

Richie jumped, turning around quickly, holding his knife out defensively. “Wh-who said that? I’m armed!” he warned, though his hand was visibly shaking. 

A figure came from behind the trees. He held his knife up higher, afraid that It was back, despite being so sure they had killed It for good. And then Eddie was standing right in front of him, hands up in surrender. Richie dropped the knife. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?”

“ _ I _ should be the one saying that. Where the fuck did you get a knife from?” Eddie tried to sound light-hearted, but it came out mostly confused.

“You fucking  _ died _ .”

Eddie froze. Then nervous laughter. “C’mon, Rich, quit joking. I didn’t-I didn’t die.”

“I’m not joking, Eddie. I was there. I  _ saw _ you-” his breath came out too fast. Was he hyperventilating? Oh,  _ shit _ -

“Richie? Richie, calm down,  _ breathe _ -”

He found himself laughing in the middle of his heaving. Eddie was telling  _ him _ to calm down? It was always the other way around. He was hysterical.

Richie was probably on the verge of blacking out, he stumbled a little. Was he even breathing anymore? He couldn’t tell. Right, this was just a hallucination. Eddie isn’t really there, panicking as he got dizzier and dizzier. He thought that maybe he might faint.

But then he felt a pair of lips on his own and his brain clicked. Either he was really fucked up or Eddie Kaspbrak was actually really alive and kissing him on the Kissing Bridge right now. Oh god, he hoped it was the second option. Eddie pulled away slightly, still clutching Richie by the hoodie. 

“Uh,” he blinked stupidly behind his glasses. “Woah.”

“Jesus, is that all you have to say, Rich?”

“Yes?”

Eddie smacked him upside the head and suddenly his senses came back to him. “Ow! Christ- Eds-”

“I need an explanation about the whole me dying thing, Richie,” he said seriously.

It didn’t take long for Richie to blurt out some blurb of what happened after they all thought Eddie had died. “It’s... weird to think about myself dying when I don’t even remember it happening,” he sighed. “I don’t even know how my wounds just  _ healed _ either. It’s like it never happened at all.”

“It’s probably for the best you don’t remember,” Richie said softly. 

Eddie looked at him, taking in the tired lines in his face, the slight redness of his eyes. He took his hand. “Sorry I made you guys go through that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.”

Richie pulled his hand away.

“But it  _ is _ , Eddie! I fucking got caught in the deadlights! If I had been more careful, you never would’ve gotten stabbed! You would’ve been fine this whole fucking time and you never would’ve died and had to come back as some weird not zombie and-”

“Richie! Listen to me,” he grabbed him by the shoulders. “It’s  _ not _ your fault. And don’t try to tell me otherwise because I’m not blaming you. The only one at fault is that fucking clown, okay? It’s  _ not your fault _ .”

Richie went quiet, something very out of character for him. Eddie sighed and decided to change the subject. “So... what were you carving on the bridge?”

“‘Sonia K-’”

“Stop it with that bullshit, Rich. I know you didn’t write my mom’s name.”

Richie sighed. “Fine. Okay, I didn’t write your mom’s name,” he confessed. His cheeks turned slightly pink. “You have to promise not to laugh, though.”

“I promise nothing.”

“Eds.”

“Okay, fine. I won’t laugh.”

Richie moved aside and revealed the “R+E” still freshly carved into the wood. “It was-it’s stupid I know... I thought it was a good idea when we were kids and looking at it now it’s pretty fucking dumb. Guess some of Ben’s sappiness rubbed off on me or some shit-”

He looked at Eddie for real and paused at his expression. He looked... fond? “Eds?”

“The only stupid thing on this bridge is you, Rich,” Eddie huffed.

“Wha-”

Eddie kissed him again, catching him by surprise. Holy shit. He almost forgot to kiss back. Richie cupped his cheek, as gentle as he was back at Neibolt. Eddie pulled him closer by the hips. Richie felt like he was floating and drowning all at once. When they pulled away, he wanted to lean in and kiss him all over again.

“So, like, are we dating now?”

Eddie grinned, and then frowned. “Shit. Myra. I totally forgot.”

Richie’s heart sank. “Right. Your wife.”

He felt like an idiot for jumping to the conclusion that they’d end up together, happily ever after, running hand in hand into the sunset like the fucking  _ Princess Bride _ or some shit. After having such a shitty week, he couldn’t help but hope for a happy ending for once. The conversation went quiet for a moment and Richie thought he had ruined everything but then Eddie spoke up.

“I think... I have to divorce Myra.”

Richie blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I mean, thinking about it made me realize that I’m not happy with her. She’s....” he sighed. “She’s too much like my mother.” Eddie leaned back against the fence. “And it wouldn’t be fair to her if I stayed with her despite being so unhappy. I don’t think I even love her like I thought I did. Like I love you-”

Richie’s eyes went wide. “You love me?”

Eddie went pink. “I thought that was obvious, dipshit!”

“But, Eds, you know that I’m a certified dumbass! I got my PhD and everything!”

He groaned. “I hate you.”

“I think you mean  _ love _ .”

Eddie sighed. “Okay, fine, whatever,” he huffed. “I’m gonna need a place to stay until I get stuff figured out with Myra.”

Richie didn’t hesitate to volunteer. “You can stay with me in L.A.,” he offered eagerly. “I mean, I only have one room. And one bed. But I can take the shitty sofa until we find a compromise. We’ll be roommates! Who are in love with each other! And maybe fuck, I dunno. Roommates with benefits?”

“Just say boyfriends, shithead.”

“Woah, breaking out the ‘B’ word already?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but didn’t argue with him. “What’re we gonna tell the others?”

Richie gave a thoughtful hum and put his arm over his shoulders. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he joked. “Get it? ‘Cause we’re on a bridge?”

Eddie groaned.


End file.
